


Irrevocable Truths

by bioticblackops



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mages and Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3441542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticblackops/pseuds/bioticblackops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing good ever comes out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar. So for his sake and for her own, she tried to stay away. After all, everyone knew how relationships between Mages and Templars ended. They already had a war to prove them true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrevocable Truths

Nothing good ever comes from a relationship between a Mage and a Templar. It was the first thing she learned in the Circle when her blood stained the floor. She'd just tried to connect with the person who brought her there, telling him over his closed off expression that it was alright. She knew he was doing his job and it was as much to keep her safe as it was to keep others safe from her. Maybe he hadn't meant to pull away so harshly when she touched his arm in silent reassurement, but she couldn't make up any excuses for the hand slapping across her face and bringing her down. For the blood on the floor. Mages and Templars don't mix. It was what the healer told her afterwards with a hard voice and soft eyes while healing her split lip but not her cracked heart.

Nothing good ever comes out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar, she reminded herself while trying to convince herself that it was their own fault as the hysterical cries of her best friend echoed down the halls, freezing the blood in her veins without the help of any magic. She couldn't see her. She didn't need to see her to know what was happening. Her imagination more than made up the lack of visuals, supplying images of a hot glowing iron that would take everything that made her best friend the person she loved most in the world. Her laughter, her soft heart, her desire for finding new ways to use herbs to help people, her love for a man that would be her undoing. As the cries stopped, a group of Templars appeared, marching down the hallway in her general direction. Amongst them a pale figure that looked like he had just lost his heart, his soul, his reason to live. He was the reason she had lost her best friend. Catching her eyes on him, she saw his shimmer with tears he couldn't shed, that shouldn't be there in the first place. And yet he couldn't help but whisper her name, a plea for forgiveness she couldn't give. So she turned around and left.

Nothing good ever comes out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar, she reminded herself while pressed against a bookshelf. Her legs wrapped around hips grinding into hers, her hands buried in hair much softer than the man it belonged to. He whispered her name and it was nothing like his hair. A harsh sound that spoke nothing of what she felt for him. It was pure want and desire, if for her or for the forbidden element she represented, she didn't know. But she did know she was making a mistake, that she shouldn't be here, that he shouldn't be here, buried deep within her, making her cry out against his palm so nobody would discover them. Less for her sake than for his own. After all, she was just a Mage.

Nothing good ever comes out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar. She knew that even before waking up just before the dagger hit the spot she had been occupying mere moments before. Would be occupying still, in a pool of her own blood, if the rattling of his armor so close to her head hadn't given him away. Eyes wide in surprise, he stared at her for a second before throwing himself at her. She didn't question why he attacked her in the middle of the night, didn't question the screams she heard from outside her tiny chamber, didn't question why the man she’d so foolishly fallen for tried to kill her. She knew the answers. She knew when the fire from her fingers heated his armor to the point he appeared to boil inside of it. She knew when he dropped his weapon in blind panic, trying to get the metal off of him, and she dived for the dagger before he could pick it up again. She knew when she turned his own blade against him, burying it deep into his throat, on accident because he suddenly was much closer than anticipated. She knew when she saw the life fade from his eyes and she knew when the Grand Enchanter came dashing into the room, shouting about Templars and Mages turning against each other and about the Circles falling. She had known all along. Nothing good could ever come out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar.

It was hard holding onto old truths when eyes the color of warm honey looked at her with nothing but kindness. It was hard remembering the words she tried to live by when softer ones kept tumbling out of his beautiful mouth which always managed to draw her attention. When a soft blush spread over his cheeks while talking about an order and life he left behind, about vows he never took. With every passing day, it was that much harder, with every stolen glance and every half smile. She knew she couldn't do anything about those treacherous feelings that kept blooming in her heart because it always ended the same. With blood on the floor, with a wielded brand, with a heart no longer beating and another one broken. She knew she couldn't, shouldn't, do anything about the thoughts haunting her each night, each waking moment, because it always ended the same way. The world needed her still and she wasn't sure she could do what needed to be done when it came down to it, when it came down to him or her. She was in serious trouble. So for his sake and for her own, she tried to stay away. After all, everyone knew how relationships between Mages and Templars ended. They already had a war to prove them true.

Yet no matter how many times she repeated the mantra about Mages and Templars in her head, her feet did not stop. Her body seemed detached from her mind, having a will of its own. It carried her through the main hall and to his office and before she could do anything about it, she heard herself asking him for a moment in private. She spoke of mages and if he could ever see her as more, only to learn he already did. When the runner came, she wondered if it was divine intervention, reminding her to run, but the thought died when Cullen's lips crashed against hers, his hands cupping her face gently. He stole her breath so thoroughly and yet with such a tenderness, it build a sharp contrast to the sharp desire burning through her. After that it was too hard to care.

Nothing good could ever come out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar, even a former Templar who tried hard to leave that life behind. Some parts always remained, be it the way he held a shield or the way his body shook with the memories of said life when they became too vivid in the dead of the night. Pain wracked his body, his voice a whimper, begging to leave him alone, oh Maker please just leave. Helplessness clawed at her when she put her cold hand on his flushed face soothingly. He reacted to the touch before he was even awake, violently pushing her away, raspy voice muttering about demons. Her head hit the floor with a dull crack, the air forced out of her body while her heart tried hard not to break. She was still lying there when he came to her, eyes wide in panic, voice raw from his nightmares, asking if she was alright and begging forgiveness in the face of the new fear of losing her. His beautiful features were ashen, self-hatred evident for having harmed her, but she couldn't bring herself to blame him, not when she'd known something like this would happen all along.

Don't go. The words hung unspoken between them. They both knew he wanted to say them as much as they both knew he wouldn't. They had known it would come to this since the beginning and they'd risked it anyway. Getting attached, falling in love, finding a reason to fight. A personal reason, not just some noble goal put into speeches and history books. The problem was that her reason was now looking at her with eyes dark with sorrow, heavy with the knowledge it would probably be the last time they saw each other. It was not that he didn't believe in her, he'd proven more than once that he did. But they were both old soldiers now. They knew war and they knew their chances. They knew that victory didn't mean they'd both make it back alive. She knew he wanted to go with her, to fight and, if it came down to it, fall by her side. But she couldn't risk it, couldn't risk him. If he knew that, he didn't say anything. He just looked at her like she was already gone, maybe because she felt like she already was. Nothing good could come out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar. She'd known that from the beginning. What she hadn't know was that heartbreak could come from unconditional, requited love, too. There were, after all, many ways to die and not all involved actually dying.

Nothing good could ever come out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar. In the end, there was always pain. Her voice was raw from screaming, barely more than a whimper by now. Her lungs felt like they would give in any moment, arms and legs too heavy to move, pain shuddering the rest of her. She was utterly exhausted, ready to give up. Her head was swimming. In the distance she could make out voices, some of them talking to her, some chanting healing spells for her broken body. One voice stood out from the rest, closer and clearer and louder. He spoke over her own pitiful begging and she could practically hear how much it cost him to keep calm while telling her to fight, to stay with him, to not give up. In another life she would have laughed at the thought that a Templar, a former Templar, would be her reason to hold on but now, only a gasp came out of her mouth. She could feel his forehead pressing against hers, his hands clasped around hers, refusing to let go even when she painfully dug her nails into his skin. It all seemed insignificant compared to the pain that shook through her body, worse than she ever would have imagined. A new wave of pain crashed over her, giving her a final moment of stubborn strength before she let go and before another scream tore through the night.

Slowly the ability to breathe came back to her, the darkness around her vision leaving, the pain turning from burning reality to dull memory. She blinked, trying to understand what had happened, when a mouth found hers, taking her breath away again in between laughs and declarations of love. His face was wet and it took her foggy brain a moment to understand that it was because he was crying with happiness and relief.

The screaming had turned into small, unhappy whimpers, the sweetest sound she'd heard in her life. When they placed the source of those noises into her arms, she feared them too weak to hold on but realized quickly she'd have a problem ever letting go again. A laugh bubbled from her, dangerously close to a sob. She could feel his arms wrapping around them, knowing he entertained similar thoughts. Nothing good could ever come out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar. Looking down on the soft wisps that would likely some day become her father's stubborn blond curls, she couldn't help but disagree. Sometimes the best things came out of a relationship between a Mage and a Templar.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first time I tried my hand on Dragon Age fanfiction which was very intimidating considering how many excellent fics I've read over the last few months and since it's quite out of my scifi-comfort-zone. I'd also have been hoplelessly lost if not for my lovely beta bioticbooty. Thank you so much for making this readable ♥


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